Popped Inquiry
by misscassietaylor
Summary: A small drabble-John has a very important question for Sherlock. Enjoy. (Established) Johnlock fluff. Reviews are appreciated, and thank you!


Sherlock Holmes sat in the kitchen of the flat hunched over his microscope at the island counter. He was oblivious to much of the outside world other than what he was examining at the table (which happened to be a filament of burned hair—gasoline indused), and he most certainly didn't notice his lover of a year and a half eyeing him from across the room over the top of his laptop.

John's laptop had long since went idle, the screen having gone blank. He had his gaze fixed on Sherlock for the past—what seemed like—few hours.

"Sherlock," John piped up after a few moments. His eyes stayed glued to the figure he had come to admire and simply love. The way Sherlock's delicate hands fiddled with the knobs on the microscope and how he would shift in his chair every so often to become more confortable made a shiver creep down John's spine every time. He knew Sherlock's touch, and he knew the feel of the man's fingertips against his own skin. The recollection and memory caused John to shift a bit in his seat.

"Mmm," Sherlock hummed a half-hearted responce, keeping his eyes in the lense of the microscope. John exhaled, and drew in a shaky breath.

"Sherlock," he repeated, only louder, determined to get his lover's attention. Sherlock straightened, not quite meeting John's gaze, keeping his eyes forward. John knew this to be Sherlock's _I'm being extremely patient, but it's killing me_ responce. He got this a few times when he became pesky.

"Yes, John," Sherlock replied, looking over into John's direction, his voice smooth as silk and rich in depth. John watched Sherlock for a moment, contemplating on forgetting the whole attempt and letting Sherlock go back to his experiment.

John closed his laptop and pushed it away from him. Without speaking, he stood and made his way over to the other man. Sherlock looked up at his lover's face, a certain affection in his eyes. "Why don't we ahh..why don't we watch a film or something? You've been at that bloddy microscope all day, haven't you?"

Sherlock looked guiltily down at the contraption. He supposed he _had_ been sitting here for quite a while. But he still hadn't gotten the answers he needed. _What was the chemical difference between hair being burned by-_ His thoughts were cut off by the sudden touch of John's fingers against his shoulder.

"I'll make you a cuppa," he said, the decision having already been made. Sherlock grunted a reply and reluctantly made his way over to the sofa, waiting on John and whatever horribly boring movie he had picked out. However, there was something different about the doctor. Something he couldn't quite place. He'd settle it as a nervous emotion, but that wasn't quite right either. When John had been close, he noticed a bit of sweat on his brow. It wasn't like John to sit roasting uncomfortably, so something had obviously been bothering him. Sherlock narrowed his eyes curiously as John returned, holding two mugs, steaming. Sherlock obediently took the cup and sipped spice in the tea teased his tongue and warmly glided down his throat. _Mmm_. John had always had a knack for preparing his beverages and Sherlock always looked forward to when the other prepared his tea most mornings.

"I figured we could watch this," John announced, holding up a DVD case with a woman holding a phone, looking panicked. _A horror flick? Unusual._ "It's a psycho-thriller of some sort," _Ahh.._ John shrugged as he put in the DVD and flicked on the television.

Sherlock sat and watched the movie, leaning against John's short frame and (with great effort) stayed silent through the whole film. He nearly had the entire movie figured out within the first fourth, but he stayed quiet nonetheless. He slowly sipped his tea and he could feel John glancing at him every so often when he did this. Sherlock let his hand drift over to John's knee, squeezing it gently, and he got the reaction he hoped for. John's hand laid overtop of his own and he could feel the sweat on the palm of the doctor's hands. _Interesting._

Sherlock took the last sip of the cuppa John had made for him, and he could feel John's hand twitch ever so subtly. He tilted the glass back, but something caught on his lips. The detective's thick eyebrows furrowed sharply and he withdrew the glass to find something other than tea at the bottom. A small, thin gold band glistened at the bottom of the cup, winking up at Sherlock. His eyes widened for a split second before he reached in and pulled it out.

"John?" He asked, looking over at the man in question. The doctor's face was entirely flushed and a less-than-confident grin rested on his lips. Sherlock's heartbeat quickened severely and he felt his head become lighter as the other shifted away and stood to his feet. "John, what are you doing," Sherlock's breath became labored and his words rushed.

"Sherlock," John finally said, his voice rather soft and hushed as he dropped down to his knee in front of his lover. Sherlock's eyes kept shifting frantically, physically becoming overwhelmed at the sudden turn of events for the night. "Sherlock, you have made me into a man that I..Well, that I never thought I would become." John let out a nervous chuckle, letting his head hang for a moment before meeting Sherlock's frantic eyes. The sight was rather amusing and it calmed John a bit. He wrung his hands before reaching out a taking the ring gingerly from Sherlock's very loose grasp.

"John, what is this?" Sherlock asked again, his voice breaking at the last syllable.

"Sherlock, please. Shut..shut up for just a moment, and let me finish," John grinned delightedly across at Sherlock as the latter straightened his position on the couch. "I love you more than..more than words can describe, you git." John smiled and rested on of his hands—his free hand—on Sherlock's frail knee. "But I wouldn't give it up for anything, and I know you know that." at this time, John gingerly picked up Sherlock's left hand and slipped the ring on his finger, one over from the smallest. It was a bit loose, but that could be fixed. Sherlock's eyes fixed on the gold band, and John noticed a certain wetness lining the rims of Sherlock's eyes, and it became to ring true for his own as well. It made him smile again. "What we have, Sherlock, is amazing. And I don't _ever_ want to lose it. So please, Sherlock. I want to commit a lifetime to you. A lifetime and more. Wou-" John's resulting question was cut off by Sherlock's body crashing into him and sending them both laying sprawled on the floor.

"You moron," Sherlock mused as he leaned down and kissed John full on the mouth with a considerable amount of force. John laughed as their lips parted, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's slim figure. Both men were silent for a few moments as they stared into each other's eyes, thoughts only kept in their heads. The teacup lay forgotten on the couch and the film continued the play, the music and sounds only a far off and distant sounds to both men on the floor.

"I'll take that as a yes," John grinned and pulled Sherlock down for another deep, intimate kiss.


End file.
